FIC: In Between Black and White
TITLE: In Between Black and White
AUTHOR: Demona
SUMMARY: Mathilda is alone in NYC, searching for her place in life. Darla never wanted a human as a friendly companion. But fate deemed otherwise.
SPOILER WARNING:
For Buffy: Set pre-Buffy, with brief mentions of episodes from Season 1 & 3.
For Angel: Through Season 2 just to be safe.
The Professional (Leon): Set after the movie ends.
RATING: R (barely) for death scenes, murder, slight mayhem, possible language.
WARNING: character deaths
DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the characters in Buffy the Vampire Slayer and/or Angel the Series; they belong to Fox, the WB/UPN, Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, etc. I do not own any of the characters in The Professional; they belong to their creators (who I am too lazy at the current moment to look up). The most important thing is that I do not own any of these characters. I just "borrow" them for my own personal amusement and entertainment. However, the ideas, concepts, and original characters in this story are mine entirely. Please do not copy or take this story without my permission. Joss Whedon is God...
NOTES:
The story is set after The Professional, but before Season 1 of Buffy. It continues along through Joss Whedon's world of Buffy and later Angel. Just the parts that I have written kinda make it AU. But to be fair we never really did know what Darla did before she came to Sunnydale to be with the Master for the Harvest. Additionally, this story is supposed to be choppy. To jump back and forth between Darla's point of view and Mathilda's. Please keep that in mind.
And comments, good or bad, are welcome.
Written for Twisting the Hellmouth's 2005 Movie Fic-A-Thon. Faye, I hope that this qualifies as what you were looking for.
Chapter One: Chance Encounters
A single shot pierced through jacket, shirt, flesh, muscle, and bone to tear a rather substantial hole through the man’s chest. I was backing away as the bullet hit, but I was still close enough to get coated in blood. The fine layer of splatter covered my face, neck and chest. I turned, looked up at the tops of the nearby buildings and spotted movement. Not enough to qualify as seeing an actual person, but something. I looked back down at my dead intended meal and sighed at such a disgraceful waste of blood. I licked my lips, drawing in what blood I could reach. And then I left, headed in the direction of the shooter. I didn’t expect to find him waiting around, but I would be able to smell fresh gunpowder, hear the heart racing with extra adrenaline, and feel the linger aura of death clinging to him when I came in close proximity. And once I found him I was going to replaced my recently ruined meal.
Two hours later I caught the trail. Youth and femininity were the first two things I sensed, both were shocking to me. The shooter was in the diner across the street. I swiped my hand over my face, making sure there was no visible blood. My jacket had been buttoned up to hide my shirt. So, I crossed the street and pushed open the glass paned door to Lucia’s Diner. The bells at the top of the door jingled as I walked in. Immediately the greasy aroma of diner food hit me with a slight aftertaste of stale cigarette smoke. A few people bothered to glance up at me but quickly diverted their gazes. I couldn’t visually spot my little sniper but I could sniff her out. I walked to the right, taking slow, casual but measured steps through the aisle. She was sitting alone at the counter. A small leather bound case resting at her feet. The stools on both sides of her were empty, so I started toward the nearest one. I got about a foot away when she spoke. Her voice was hard, devoid of emotion. Not the voice of an innocent child. I fell in love with that voice, and the attitude that followed.
“That seat’s taken,” she informed me, not bothering to look up. I glanced at the one on the other side of her. I stepped around behind, she tensed as I crossed out of her vision. “That seat’s taken too,” she added, looking up at me this time. When she saw my face she froze, just for a guilty second, and then an indifferent mask slid over her face.
“Look, kid, both of these seats aren’t taken, now you decide which one you want empty, but I’m sitting down regardless,” I told the girl. She didn’t look happy at my ultimatum.
“Fine,” she ground out.
“Thank you,” I nodded briefly once before sliding onto the stool just off to her right. The lady behind the counter wandered down my way. Her bleached blonde hair and over done makeup made her look much older rather than her age.
“What can I get ya, hon?” she questioned, openly eyeing me up.
“Decaf coffee.”
“Cream and sugar?”
“Cream only,” I responded and the woman walked off. I turned my attention back to the girl on my left. I leaned in close to her and whispered in her ear.
“So, do you kill people often?”
The girl only tensed up a little at that comment and fought hard to keep her composure.
“I have no idea what you are talking about. I’m a kid,” she quickly bit out.
“Right. Well I hate to break it to you, kid, but my date didn’t make it the whole evening. In fact I’m pretty sure you recognize me from his final moments.”
“I’ve never seen you before.”
“You’ve got a nice shot kid. And it seems you have the right attitude to go with it. I’m impressed. But me, I prefer a much more intimate kill. I kinda like getting my hands dirty,” I confessed to the girl. Her face softened and I could tell I was making some head way with her.
“Okay, well how many people have you killed?” the girl leaned in close to quietly questioned me. I could almost taste her blood pulsing through her fragile neck.
“Not enough,” I breathed out and she backed away.
Dear Diary,
I did my first legitimate hit this evening. Partially hidden under the cover of darkness, but not really seeing as this City never sleeps. Tony set it up. I thought he would never give me the opportunity, but he did. The jobs are small. Pitiful really, but they are jobs, and each one I complete helps him build confidence in me. And now I’m $5K richer and there’s one less thug bothering Tony. Leon would have taken the guy out with a handgun, probably close enough to catch the spray. But I’m not Leon, or good enough to be him yet, but I’m trying. Killing doesn’t bother me. I should be worried about that fact, but I’m not.
The strangest thing about my hit tonight was the woman with him. She was new. I hadn’t seen her while I had been gathering info on Marcus. But she was standing right beside him when I took my shot. She had to be covered by the blood splatter. Instead of screaming and running to the police, the woman calmly left the body and came in search of me.
Her name is Darla. Everything inside me is telling me to get as far away from as humanly possible, but I can’t seem to leave her presence. I’m drawn to her, like those little flying bugs are drawn to the blue fluorescent lights. They must know they are going to die, but they risk it, just trying to get close to the light. It is the same way with Darla. I can feel her flame burning, brighter and brighter, and I know I’m probably going to get burned…but I think it will be worth it. She fascinates me. She defies everything I stand for, but I still stay.
Maybe I’m just extremely lonely. Maybe, just maybe, I miss my love, Leon. To have lost true love so young has to do something to someone. Hopefully he won’t hate me for replacing him, especially with a woman with no rules.
~Mathilda
“You have to breathe in rhythm with your shots. Everything has to be in sync. No rushing. No hesitating. Just you, the gun, and your target,” Mathilda breathed in my ear as we spread out on the floor of my apartment.
“Breathing isn’t really something I practice,” I muttered and attempted to breathe.
“I know it comes naturally, but controlling that breathing is what I am talking about. Regulating and shaping it to where you want it is very important. So, concentrate Darla.”
“Believe me, I’m working on it,” I pushed out a couple more breaths and then looked down the sight of the gun. I focused on the assigned target.
“Become one with the target. Know when it is going to breathe. Feel what it is feeling. Expect its next move,” she quietly added.
When I was confident I had my target I gently squeezed the trigger. The gun came to life, expelling the bullet at its target - a three legged stuffed cat in the window of an apartment across the street and several floors up. It fell into the apartment, covered in sticky blue paint.
“Nice shot,” she told me and I smiled up at her as I rolled off the bed and to my feet. I quickly crossed the room and pulled the curtains to.
“Thank you for the lesson Mathilda. Perhaps another one tomorrow?”
“Sorry, I have a huge test. But by next month I’ll be free for the summer,” she apologized with a small shrug.
“Don’t fret, my child. I’ll survive one evening without your company I suppose. Have you given my offer any thought?”
“I would love to travel Europe, but how am I supposed to get away from the school?”
“No faith in me? You are looking at your long lost Auntie Darla, who just discovered the misfortunate demise of her older sister. And who has just come to realize she is your legal guardian. And as such she is more than able to take you on a three month vacation through Europe,” I announced as I tossed the manila folder in her direction. She scooped the folder off the bed, rifling through all the documents.
“How did you get this?”
“That, my dear child, is a very deep, dark secret. If I tell you I’ll be forced to kill you,” was my reply with a half-smile.
“You could try but I’m better than you,” she cockily replied. I reacted without too much thought and attacked her. I fended off her weak attempts and pinned her face down on the floor.
“You aren’t the better killer of this little duo. You would do well to remember that, Mathilda. You still have a lot to learn. When you visit next we’ll switch to lessons for you, hands on fighting lessons. There are evil things in this world that don’t need knives or guns to kill you. You need to be able to protect yourself.”
“Okay, I give. Could I have my body back?”
“Yes. Now get outta here. Come back when you are ready to fight,” I suggested as I got off her back. She rose to her feet and gathered her things.
“I’ll see you in a couple of days, Darla,” she told me, glancing at me as she stood by the door.
“Come by whenever. That is what the key is for, Mathilda,” I reminded her and she
nodded with a small smile.
“Don’t forget to clean that gun before you put it away,” she reminded me and then ducked out of the apartment. Her nagging left a smile on my lips, which quickly died once I realized it was there. How I had managed to fall in with a human girl I would never be able explain.
Dear Diary,
Darla took me on my first workout run last night. She has to have like super breathing powers because she wasn’t even winded after our three mile jog. I, on the other hand, could hardly breathe. I needed to stop sneaking those smokes while the students and teachers at The Spencer School weren’t looking. And then, after all that crazy running, she takes me to this dojo of sorts, and we start on the basics of street fighting, basic hand to hand combat. It was absolutely great. She knows so much, and can tell when I’m doing something wrong, even as little as my weight distribution, all while we are going through the exercises.
I get the feeling that my schooling her on the finer points of the sniper was over for now. Which is actually fine because this hand to hand combat shit rocks. How often do you have someone that will patiently teach you how to throw a punch and then let you practice on them? I’d worry about it more if Darla didn’t seem to okay with it.
Hopefully we’ll keep working on this.
~Mathilda
Dear Dairy,
Europe was absolutely awesome. Darla took me to England, Spain, Portugal and Germany. She promised to take me to the Mediterranean next summer, to see Greece, Rome, Italy, and then back to Europe to see France. I’m not ready to see my love’s homeland quite yet. But soon. Soon I will walk where he walked, see where he was born, and where he was raised.
Darla, in her quest to make me the world’s best hitman (or woman in my case), lined up teachers for me while we were traveling around Europe. Two different men in Spain, a woman in Germany, and a young couple in Portugal. Each of them had their own styles, and each had their own choice of weapons.
I started training with the sniper and the shotgun with Tomas and Andres. The two men ran me through exercises during the day while Darla slept. She claimed she had an allergy to sunlight, but I think there was more to it than that. And once they felt I was adequately prepared they took me out on live training missions.
The German woman, Annette, taught me handguns and knives. These two weapons were used only when a hit from far away wasn’t possible, or when my employer wanted a much more personal kill. I did tons of training exercises, but she never took me out on real missions. She told me I wasn’t mentally ready for the close kills. And while I argued that she was wrong I had the sinking suspicion she was right.
The young couple, Marcelo and Christine, were nothing like the three previous instructors. These two never stepped foot outside during the day. And Darla frequently hung out with us while I was getting trained. The two of them taught totally different lessons. Christine, who wasn’t much older than Darla, taught me meditation and then methods in which I could use to control my pain. Not to pun but they were painful lessons to learn. Marcelo taught me the basics about hand grenades, explosives, and anything else that would explode. I didn’t blow anything up in practice, but Marcelo did take me with him when his group knocked off a poorly secured jewelry store. Granted, I just mainly watched, and stayed out of the way, but it was still a learning experience.
The best part was after all the training, and all the new knowledge drilled into my head, I was contacted to make a few easy - amateur level - hits. They were something I could do in a snap, but I eagerly took them so I could get the experience, the reputation, and most importantly the money that went along with every hit.
Darla took me on trips, showing me the nightlife in every city we stepped foot in. She was extremely knowledgeable about each city…and knew every good bar or club to attend. And the crazy thing was that I was never once questioned about my age or lack of ID.
Overall Europe, and a three month vacation with Darla away from New York City, was great. I can’t wait to go away with her next summer.
~Mathilda
Despite the fact that I absolutely enjoyed spending time with Mathilda it was an extremely hard three months with her, while we were on vacation in Europe. I should have realized that the young adult in Mathilda would want to go out, explore the cities, walk around during the day and just soak up everything she possibly could. But I had a misguided image of her. In my head, I had seen this as an educational trip to strengthen her rapidly budding skills. She was a complete mystery to me. One minute I was looking at her and she was a cold-blooded killer, with absolutely no remorse for taking a life, and the next she was a freakin’ kid, running around enjoying life. I think that is what attracted me to her and ultimately what kept me from turning or killing her. She was so full of life. Despite the fact that she was an aspiring hitman, she still lived each day to its fullest. And I was jealous that she was still capable of doing that, despite everything she had been through. Her absolute love for life, and her joy in living it, was the primary reason that I hadn’t turned her already. I was terrified that Mathilda, the vampire wouldn’t be nearly as wonderful as Mathilda, the young girl.
These, of course, were all irrational thoughts for any vampire. They were especially wrong for me, being the childe of the Master and Sire of Angelus - the Scourge of Europe. I had created one of the fiercest vampires in history. Of course, he was currently in possession of a filthy soul. The things my boy was capable of. All dampened by those damned gypsies. He was the exact opposite of Mathilda. I had grown accustomed to her soul, to her lack of emotion during a kill, but her ability to smile and joke around afterwards. Angelus was never such a creature. I imagine, if he hadn’t had a century worth of shit to haunt him, that now he would be much like my Mathilda.
But Mathilda lacked the creativity when it came to the kill. She was just a hitman. She didn’t kill for fun or sport. She killed because someone paid her to do it, and because the person generally deserved to die. And she followed a strict moral code when it came to potential hits. No women. No children. Both severely conflicted with my own killing patterns, considering babies and young children were my favorite treats.
Despite the fact I was confided to the hours between sunset and sunrise, I still managed to take Mathilda around and show her a good time. During the day she would take the standard tours, exploring the cities as tourists would see them. At night I would take her to the bars and the clubs that really made the cities come alive. A little stare or two and the bouncers at the establishments were more than willing to look the other way, allowing both of us to enter.
I spent the summer teaching Mathilda how to drink and how not to get drunk doing so. Sure, I let her get drunk on occasion, but only if I was around. And I taught her how to drink to fool people into thinking that she was trashed. It was a fine art form. And perhaps I spent a little too long teaching her that, but she seemed to thoroughly enjoy the lessons involving alcohol.
The other important lesson I taught her, while she wasn’t learning the tricks of the trade, was how to read people. It was necessary for her to be able to pick certain types of people out of a crowd, and then how to react to them and treat them. Humans were so predictable. I had always studied them, even before I was a vampire, but especially afterwards. And in the four centuries I had spent on this Earth they hadn’t changed much.
By the end of the summer I could tell she was ready to go back to school. Ready for the normalcy that her strict private school education gave her. It gave her the balance she needed in her life to keep doing the hits and not lose herself to the darkness. And I wasn’t ready to see that darkness in her just yet.
Chapter Two: Undead Domestic Life
August 1996
“Come on, keep up, slow poke,” I called back over my shoulder as I jogged down the sidewalk. It was just after dark, and the New York City streets were just starting to cool off from the intense heat of a summer day. It was as good a time as any to go for a jog with Mathilda. She was jogging a few yards behind me, starting to show signs of fatigue. But I guess it was only fair considering we had already covered three miles, and were still headed uphill.
“I’m coming, I’m coming. It isn’t my fault I have to breathe!” she called back, panting slightly. I stopped my forward movement and jogged in place for a moment, letting her catch up.
“And what, you are saying that I don’t need to breathe?”
“You said it, not me. You just can run and run and not be out of breath and I don’t understand it,” Mathilda explained to me. I smiled at her and shook my head.
“I have been running since before you were born,” I started off the lecture and she screamed, a frustrated scream in the dark of the street.
“No, God, no, not that damned line again,” she begged me. Despite her tone of desperation her eyes twinkled with amusement.
I was about to respond when a rapid shiver went through my body. I couldn’t control it as I shuddered. The whole thing was enough reason for me to stop running and reach out to grab hold of Mathilda. There was a Slayer nearby, and the chances were that she had already sensed me. Fuck, I hadn’t been careful enough. Goofing off with Mathilda and not paying attention to my surroundings.
“What, what is wrong?” Mathilda asked me, immediately looking around, and slipping into a defensive position.
“Someone is close by,” I whispered to her and she looked over at me in confusion.
“Someone? Darla, there are people all over the place. What are you talking about? And yeah, normal people don’t shudder when they feel other people around them,” she called me on my physical reaction.
“Please, I just need you to trust me. No questions. No talking. Just be quiet, and let me think,” I urged her. She must have sensed that there was something clearly not right in my tone, because she stopped talking, and let me have her silence. I tried to reach out and feel for the Slayer, but I couldn’t get a good enough grasp on where she was. The fact that I couldn’t get a feel on her general direction meant that she was close, super close.
“Ok, Mathilda, we are going to turn around and head back to your school. Exercising is over for the evening as soon as we get you back safe and sound,” I decided and started back in the direction we had just come from. But it was clearly the wrong direction because the Slayer stepped out of an alley and into the middle of the sidewalk. She had a crossbow slung over her torso, and a stake in her hand. She was a little taller than I, heavier built, with a darker complexion. Staring at the two of us, she was the dark and I was the light. Ironic because my angelic appearance was all a farce.
“I don’t think that you are going to be taking that girl anywhere,” the girl spoke. Mathilda looked at the girl and then looked at me. She couldn’t figure out what was going on.
“Do you know her, Darla?” Mathilda quickly asked, trying her damnest to assess the situation.
“Not exactly,” I vaguely replied. I knew that wouldn’t be enough for her, but I needed to get her away from here. I took a step forward, a tiny one, toward the Slayer standing before me, but it put me in-between the Slayer and Mathilda.
“You’ll let her pass, right? Unharmed?” I called out.
“Yes. And if she doesn’t get any stupid ideas about joining in this then she is more than welcome to pass, unharmed,” the Slayer called back and I nodded. Never trust the enemy, but at this point my main priority was getting Mathilda safely away.
“No stupid ideas. Just let her pass. She knows nothing,” I assured the Slayer.
“Then tell her move her ass,” she told me. “Other side of the street. And tell her not to come back.”
“Mathilda,” I started.
“No. No. No. Leon told me to go and that he would be right behind me. He told me he loved me. That I had given him roots and that he had the desire to live. He died for me Darla. Died because my stupidity ran wild. I’m not going to leave you and have you die too!!”
“Mathilda, listen to me. I’m not going to tell you I love you. I’m not going to tell you that you gave me a reason to live because quite frankly I’m already dead. But I will tell you I will be at your dorm room right after sunset tomorrow. We will go running, we will work out, and we will train together. But I need you to go now. When my kind meet up with hers bad things happen and I don’t want you to be involved.”
“Promise me you’ll come for me tomorrow.”
“I promise, my child, now please go,” I urged her. She nodded, gave a dark look towards the Slayer, and took off across the street and back towards her school. She would be safe there. The Slayer would never find her. But Mathilda would remember the girl forever.
“Touching, but aren’t vamps supposed to kill people not coddle them?”
“You got me alone so now let’s do something about it.”
“Fair enough,” she commented and I headed after her into a side alley.
The fight was not pretty. She was good at her calling. Maybe too good. I managed to drag the fight on even though I wasn’t winning. She and I both successfully landed some fairly good hits. But it was clear we were both waiting for the other to slip, so we could finish the kill. She managed to get me down and stab me in my chest - breaking two ribs and puncturing a lung - with a metal pole. I saw her pull out her stake as I struggled to remove the pole from myself while moving away from her. She lashed out, kicking me in the face. I went sprawling onto my back. Pain radiated from every fiber of my body. The pole forgotten as she advanced upon me. No cheesy lines or puns came from her mouth, only the stake on its downward motion straight toward my heart. A single gunshot ruined the moment.
Dear Diary,
I killed a girl tonight. I shot her in cold blood. I broke Leon’s rules. Two simple rules and I fucked them up. I can’t get the look of shock and horror on her face out of my mind. The look dissolved into something I can’t explain. If I had to guess I’d say it was happiness or at least peace. But I did that. God, what am I going to do?
Darla said she’d take care of her. Darla said it was all going to be all right. Darla had a metal pole sticking out of her chest and she is the one telling me it is all going to be okay. Darla’s probably dead by now. And I left her too. She took my gun, told me to leave before the sirens got any closer, and that she would see me tomorrow. God, she’s probably dead. I let her die.
How did things get so fucked up?
Leon, my love, if you are watching over me please forgive me. I didn’t mean to break the rules but she was about to kill Darla. And I couldn’t bear the thought of losing her too. Be well, my love, I hope you are at peace.
~Mathilda
“I’m here to see Mathilda,” I told the girl that answered the door.
“She’s in her room. Do you want to come in or me to get her?”
“I’ll come in,” I told the girl.
“Ok sure,” she said and then backed up to let me in. “Do you know the way?”
“Yes.” I hoped the affirmation was enough to dismiss the girl. She nodded and then disappeared down a hall. I turned to the left and headed through the short maze that would lead me to Mathilda’s single. I knocked on her door and awaited an answer. Behind the door I heard the bed creak and movement headed my way. A moment later Mathilda appeared in the doorway.
“Darla!” she yelled and launched herself at me. Arms wrapped around my neck, legs wrapped around my waist, and she was all around me. I held onto her and balanced my weight so I wouldn’t fall over.
“I’m here, my child, I’m here,” I whispered in her ear. I gently ran my hands up and down her back. I whispered words of nonsense in her ear. Surprisingly they worked on both of us.
Minutes passed before she finally let her body slide down mine until she reached the floor.
“I told you I’d come,” I whispered. “I told you.”
“I know. I never had a doubt,” she got out through the tears.
Chapter Three: In Between Demons & Souls
The key turning in the lock let me know Mathilda was the one entering my apartment. I tossed the rest of my clothes into my suitcase. A quick glance at the clock told me I still had three hours before I had to catch my plane.
“Darla?” Mathilda called out.
“In the back,” I responded. I heard her footsteps head down the short hallway.
“What’s going on?” I watched as she quietly took in the bedroom and the mess. I looked up at her and sighed. She had turned out so beautifully. Her teens had been good to her. Not to mention all the training had left her at 5’6” with a lean frame. Her shoulder blade length brown hair was pulled back in a messy bun. And drastic makeup on her face matched the gothic clothes on her body. Why was I leaving this child behind?
“I have to go. The family is being called in. I can’t say no,” I explained and she stayed in the doorway.
“When did you find out?”
“Last night after I dropped you off.”
“Were you planning on telling me?”
“Yes, Mathilda, of course. But I had to pack and you didn’t need to help out with that. My flight leaves in three hours. I was going to stop by your school before I left,” I immediately told her.
“Of course,” she replied. “So, family gathering and you just leave? What about me? What about our trip this summer?”
“I wish I could explain it so you would understand. But I have to go Mathilda. If I don’t go I’ll be hunted down. I’m the favored childe. And while that means nothing to you, believe me, if I skip out then I don’t even want to think about what will happen.”
“And me?” Mathilda’s voice quivered.
“You, my dear child, need to stay here. I need you to finish school. I would love to tell you that I will be back for our vacation but that would be a lie. I don’t think I’ll be able to get away for at least a year. And I’m sorry Mathilda, but I’ve stayed away too long already.”
“And what…you leave and I wait a year for you to come back?”
“I know that sounds horrible, but it is either that or this is goodbye. I’m sorry, Mathilda, believe me I am, but I have no other choice.”
“Let me call you then. Let me keep in touch with you. It is the least you can do,” she pleaded.
“I will call you when I get out there. And we’ll see about setting up phone calls,” I assured her. It was the best I could give her. Clearly it wasn’t what she wanted, but it was the best I could do.
“Okay,” she finally agreed. “Do you need help packing? Carrying stuff to the airport?” And that sudden acceptance and utter confidence that she had in me was why I had stuck around so long. She cared for me. Despite the things she had seen me do. Despite the fact that I kept things from her. She cared. And I basked in that warmth.
“I’m almost done packing but I could definitely use a hand and company to the airport.”
“Good. Let me know what to grab,” she responded and smiled softly.
Dear Diary,
Darla hasn’t even been gone for a whole day and I already miss her. The City seems dull, lifeless, and quiet without her presence. I realize I’m probably over exaggerating, but it hurts that she’s gone. And I worry that I will never see her again. That last night’s hug will be both the first and last. And I think Darla worries about it too. Watching her walk down the hallway to the plane was hard. Watching it take off almost broke my heart.
She made me promise to keep training. And I will. The last two plus years have made it so I can’t not train. It’s ingrained in my mind, my body, my soul. And I’ll continue to take contracts. The money is always good. And I’ll wait for her to come home. Mostly because I don’t want to think about living without her in my life one way or another.
I hope she stays safe. Losing Leon hurt…but losing Darla might kill me.
~Mathilda
Dear Diary,
Darla called tonight. Something is very wrong. Her family has come across a problem. Darla kept insisting that one little blonde wasn’t going to get in the way, but my gut tells me differently. And I’m pretty sure hers does too.
Aside from that she told me she was in California, which I already knew. She won’t give me a more specific location. She kept insisting that I not come find her. That her family wouldn’t understand why I was there, and they would probably kill me. And she held a lot of conviction in her tone. She thinks they’ll kill me, and that’s more than enough reason for me to stay away, for now.
She’s supposed to call next week, maybe sooner if she can get to a phone. It’s been weeks and I can already feel myself wilting away. I miss her.
~Mathilda
Dear Diary,
Darla’s dead.
Dear Diary,
I got an envelope in the mail yesterday. It was to be sent upon her death. Inside was a list of bank accounts, saving deposit boxes, and more, so much more. All of them had my name on them. I was ridiculously rich now. Rich enough I would never have to do another hit in my life. But the cost of being rich was way too high.
I’ve cried all the tears I can. I trashed my room, beat up a few people last night, and got myself well and truly smashed. And now all I’m left with is a letter. Pieces of paper with her writing scrawled upon them. Words carefully thought out and placed for my viewing. And instructions on how to remain alive when - not if - I come looking for her killer.
Aurelius.
That is Darla’s true name - her family name. I’m part of that family too. She marked me; when I don’t know, but she did. And she says the others will know.
And she sent a cross to me. It is clearly an antique; she said it was made in the late 1500s. And that she would like me to wear it all the time. Its weight is a calming presence against my skin. Even now, as I write this, I’m still touching it, playing with it, making sure it hasn’t disappeared as well. .
She asked me not to look for her killer immediately. To wait, cool off, get my head back on straight. No emotion, just simple hunting. Emotion could be had afterwards. And so I’ll wait, if only to respect her wishes.
~Mathilda
Dear Diary,
I found Darla’s killer. Angel, her child. Darla never mentioned children. Could Angel and Angelus be related…or the same? I think Darla would have told me if she was having a relationship with her son.
He no longer resides in this town called Sunnydale. He left for L.A. And that is where I am headed. I’m going to look him in the eye while I pull the trigger. Darla deserves that much.
~Mathilda
Dear Diary,
I found Angel, and I’ve got the bruises and broken arm to show for it. And despite all that I’m currently residing in his hotel. He put me up for the night after he got done kicking my ass. As it turns out he says he killed her, put her out of her misery, and set her free. He said she was possessed by a demon. And that Darla wouldn’t have wanted to live that way. I don’t know what to believe. But I plan on keeping a close eye on Angel. It’s clear that he can kick my ass. And it’s also clear that he isn’t going to kill me, despite my attacking him, and his coworkers’ blatant encouragement.
L.A. is giving me a strange vibe. I feel like something big is going to happen and I just need to stick around long enough to figure it out.
I miss Darla. I miss her smile, her laugh, her sarcastic streak, and her viciousness at times. She was more than just Darla. She was my best friend. She was the only one in this whole crazy world that understood me. Except for Leon…but they are both dead. And I’m left behind to pick up the pieces and move on.
I hate being left behind.
~Mathilda
Dear Diary,
I saw Darla this evening. I mean, I don’t think that I was hallucinating. But I have to be. She died. Angel said he killed her. And plus, this woman was running around in the daylight. I hadn’t seen Darla in the daylight in all the years I had known her. In fact, she avoided it like the plague. I went to Angel and asked him. And damn if he didn’t freak out. He started yelling at his coworkers that Darla was really was alive. That I was proof that he wasn’t crazy. And his coworkers kicked me out, and told me not to come back, and so I left. He would lead me to her though. I knew that much. So, I camped out outside the hotel and waited for him to go to her.
~Mathilda
Dear Diary,
He came running back to the hotel a few minutes ago. I’m a little too wigged out by his beaten appearance to actually move closer to the hotel. But I’m following him wherever he goes this time. He knows something. Something big. And it involves Darla. Which means that I am going to get myself involved. How is Darla alive? Why hasn’t she come for me? Despite all the confusion surrounding her I need to see her. I need to hear her voice again. Let’s hope Angel finds her soon.
~Mathilda
Dear Diary,
It seems that Darla has been taken to be reborn in some nursery. A plant nursery of all places. And the Angel Investigations Team mentioned Wolfram and Hart. I thought that was a law firm. Crazy shit goes down in this town. They are gathering weapons - that much I can tell from my distant perch. And Angel looks determined. He looks like he is ready to kill something. God, I hope he isn’t planning on trying to kill Darla again. I’d really hate to have to kill him this time. He seems like a genuinely nice guy. They’re about to move. I should follow them. Darla, my dear Darla, I’m coming.
~Mathilda
“Angel?” I look up at my childe in confusion. What is going on? Where am I? And why does he have a stake? Oh god, it wasn’t a dream. Drusilla… I keep looking around, surmising that I am a roof, dressed in a nightgown. And sadly enough I’m in the same place I was in Sunnydale, about to staked by my own childe. For a reason this time. To save me. To save my soul. I can see the pain etched across his face. He feels guilty about me being a vampire. I don’t belong here. I was happy wherever I was. I see him start to bring the stake down again and let my eyes fall closed. I may be able to accept death, but I’m not going to watch my own happen. But the blow never comes.
Drusilla had tackled him, rolling him back toward the greenhouse glass. And I rise to my feet and run to the ledge of the roof. As the seconds tick by I can feel the last tendrils of my soul disappearing. The demon is rising. Taking control. And any moment now I’ll not be me and I’ll be her. The demon is screaming for me to flee. I look back over my shoulder and see Angel start to move. I won’t let him have me. I climb up on the edge and step off, a five story drop, just as I hear him get his feet under him.
I land wrong, but manage to soften the blown by rolling when my knees give out. Quickly, I move out of the street and into a dark side alley. He will still be able to find me if I stay, so I keep moving. I am almost two blocks away when I realize someone is following me. I duck into a dark corner and watch as a young woman comes running into the alley, stopping when she realizes I’m not visible.
“Darla! I know it’s you. Please, come out. Darla!” the girl calls out as she steps further into the alley. Something is eerily familiar about her. Her gait, the way she holds herself, and her voice all sound so recognizable. But through the fog I can’t place her.
I let her walk past me, unknowingly, and step out behind her. She doesn’t hear me as I walk soundlessly up behind her. I had every intention of grilling the girl, finding out who she is, how she knows my face and name. But when I get within inches of her all I smell is blood. Blood furiously being pumped through veins just barely under the skin. Her blood is laced with adrenaline and fear. Both tasty additions to the already savory substance. And I let the demon take over because it needs to feed. And I’m almost gone anyway.
I grab her from behind, wrapping one arm around her chest, catching one of her arms in the process, and my other hand grabs her head, tilting it to the left, baring her neck. I see the bite, recognize it for my own, but still continue. Details of my connection to this girl will come later. Now I can only think about the kill. She immediately starts to struggle, trying to pull my arms off her, lashing out with her boot encased feet, but she is no match for a starving newly risen vampire such as myself. I sink my fangs into the existing mark and feed. The warm, spiced, blood flows over my teeth and tongue and glides down my throat. I bite harder, sucking more and more into my mouth. Gluttony. I’m not even really tasting it at this point, but my body needs it.
The body I’m holding has stopped fighting and her knees give out, sending us both crashing to the paved alley. I manage to rip my fangs out of her neck, flinging myself backwards and away from the girl. Enough blood. Too much even. I wipe my chin with the back of my hand, coming away with blood. Such a mess. And then I see the cross, lying in the hollow the girl’s neck. And my world snaps back into focus. I scramble to get back to her body. Immediately my fingers go to her neck, the left side, searching for a pulse. I listen intently, trying to stop my own suddenly panicked breathing, for a heartbeat. Faint, too faint. She’s too far gone. Not even the demon I am can save her now. Her eyes roll back in her head, what little blood that is left in her body is slowly seeping out of her neck, and I hear her final heartbeat.
Lying before me, in a dirty alley, is my dear sweet Mathilda.
I collapse backwards, putting a small distance between myself and her body. It’s still warm, but cooling off fast with the lack of blood inside it. I notice the pack, just off to her right, close enough that I just have to stretch to get it. I rip the zipper in my haste to open it. The contents spill out into my lap and onto the street around me.
Weapons. My girl never traveled light. She might not have known what she was coming up against, but she was prepared for anything. The leather bound book caught my attention, as it was out of place amidst the weapons. I opened it and immediately recognized it to be Mathilda’s journal. Carefully, reverently I flipped to the last page. I reread her final entry and tears sprung to my eyes. She had been looking for me. And unfortunately she had found me too late.
I closed the book, stuffing it, and the weapons, back in the pack. I bunch the pack back together as best as I could and rose to my feet. I didn’t have much time. I needed to move her now, before Angel found me, before I lost total control of myself. I carefully picked up her body, gently cradling it against my chest, and walked out of the alley.
Dear Diary,
I buried Mathilda in one of the nicer cemeteries in L.A. It was no New York skyline but it was a decent view. It was the least I could do for her. Her tombstone reads:
Mathilda Aurelius Carroll
April 14, 1982 - December 19, 2000
Now forever with her love.
Be well, my child.
I don’t have the time to mourn her death properly at the moment. I have to deal with these lawyers at Wolfram and Hart. They are responsible for my transformation back into the demon. They will pay for messing with my life.
I hope you will forgive me, my child. I never meant to hurt you. I never meant for anything bad to ever come of you. Please forgive me. I loved you with everything I was capable of. It might not have been much, but it was all I had to give.
Perhaps I will see you again. Take care, my dear, sweet child.
~Darla
AUTHOR: Demona
SUMMARY: Mathilda is alone in NYC, searching for her place in life. Darla never wanted a human as a friendly companion. But fate deemed otherwise.
SPOILER WARNING:
For Buffy: Set pre-Buffy, with brief mentions of episodes from Season 1 & 3.
For Angel: Through Season 2 just to be safe.
The Professional (Leon): Set after the movie ends.
RATING: R (barely) for death scenes, murder, slight mayhem, possible language.
WARNING: character deaths
DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the characters in Buffy the Vampire Slayer and/or Angel the Series; they belong to Fox, the WB/UPN, Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, etc. I do not own any of the characters in The Professional; they belong to their creators (who I am too lazy at the current moment to look up). The most important thing is that I do not own any of these characters. I just "borrow" them for my own personal amusement and entertainment. However, the ideas, concepts, and original characters in this story are mine entirely. Please do not copy or take this story without my permission. Joss Whedon is God...
NOTES:
The story is set after The Professional, but before Season 1 of Buffy. It continues along through Joss Whedon's world of Buffy and later Angel. Just the parts that I have written kinda make it AU. But to be fair we never really did know what Darla did before she came to Sunnydale to be with the Master for the Harvest. Additionally, this story is supposed to be choppy. To jump back and forth between Darla's point of view and Mathilda's. Please keep that in mind.
And comments, good or bad, are welcome.
Written for Twisting the Hellmouth's 2005 Movie Fic-A-Thon. Faye, I hope that this qualifies as what you were looking for.
Chapter One: Chance Encounters
A single shot pierced through jacket, shirt, flesh, muscle, and bone to tear a rather substantial hole through the man’s chest. I was backing away as the bullet hit, but I was still close enough to get coated in blood. The fine layer of splatter covered my face, neck and chest. I turned, looked up at the tops of the nearby buildings and spotted movement. Not enough to qualify as seeing an actual person, but something. I looked back down at my dead intended meal and sighed at such a disgraceful waste of blood. I licked my lips, drawing in what blood I could reach. And then I left, headed in the direction of the shooter. I didn’t expect to find him waiting around, but I would be able to smell fresh gunpowder, hear the heart racing with extra adrenaline, and feel the linger aura of death clinging to him when I came in close proximity. And once I found him I was going to replaced my recently ruined meal.
Two hours later I caught the trail. Youth and femininity were the first two things I sensed, both were shocking to me. The shooter was in the diner across the street. I swiped my hand over my face, making sure there was no visible blood. My jacket had been buttoned up to hide my shirt. So, I crossed the street and pushed open the glass paned door to Lucia’s Diner. The bells at the top of the door jingled as I walked in. Immediately the greasy aroma of diner food hit me with a slight aftertaste of stale cigarette smoke. A few people bothered to glance up at me but quickly diverted their gazes. I couldn’t visually spot my little sniper but I could sniff her out. I walked to the right, taking slow, casual but measured steps through the aisle. She was sitting alone at the counter. A small leather bound case resting at her feet. The stools on both sides of her were empty, so I started toward the nearest one. I got about a foot away when she spoke. Her voice was hard, devoid of emotion. Not the voice of an innocent child. I fell in love with that voice, and the attitude that followed.
“That seat’s taken,” she informed me, not bothering to look up. I glanced at the one on the other side of her. I stepped around behind, she tensed as I crossed out of her vision. “That seat’s taken too,” she added, looking up at me this time. When she saw my face she froze, just for a guilty second, and then an indifferent mask slid over her face.
“Look, kid, both of these seats aren’t taken, now you decide which one you want empty, but I’m sitting down regardless,” I told the girl. She didn’t look happy at my ultimatum.
“Fine,” she ground out.
“Thank you,” I nodded briefly once before sliding onto the stool just off to her right. The lady behind the counter wandered down my way. Her bleached blonde hair and over done makeup made her look much older rather than her age.
“What can I get ya, hon?” she questioned, openly eyeing me up.
“Decaf coffee.”
“Cream and sugar?”
“Cream only,” I responded and the woman walked off. I turned my attention back to the girl on my left. I leaned in close to her and whispered in her ear.
“So, do you kill people often?”
The girl only tensed up a little at that comment and fought hard to keep her composure.
“I have no idea what you are talking about. I’m a kid,” she quickly bit out.
“Right. Well I hate to break it to you, kid, but my date didn’t make it the whole evening. In fact I’m pretty sure you recognize me from his final moments.”
“I’ve never seen you before.”
“You’ve got a nice shot kid. And it seems you have the right attitude to go with it. I’m impressed. But me, I prefer a much more intimate kill. I kinda like getting my hands dirty,” I confessed to the girl. Her face softened and I could tell I was making some head way with her.
“Okay, well how many people have you killed?” the girl leaned in close to quietly questioned me. I could almost taste her blood pulsing through her fragile neck.
“Not enough,” I breathed out and she backed away.
Dear Diary,
I did my first legitimate hit this evening. Partially hidden under the cover of darkness, but not really seeing as this City never sleeps. Tony set it up. I thought he would never give me the opportunity, but he did. The jobs are small. Pitiful really, but they are jobs, and each one I complete helps him build confidence in me. And now I’m $5K richer and there’s one less thug bothering Tony. Leon would have taken the guy out with a handgun, probably close enough to catch the spray. But I’m not Leon, or good enough to be him yet, but I’m trying. Killing doesn’t bother me. I should be worried about that fact, but I’m not.
The strangest thing about my hit tonight was the woman with him. She was new. I hadn’t seen her while I had been gathering info on Marcus. But she was standing right beside him when I took my shot. She had to be covered by the blood splatter. Instead of screaming and running to the police, the woman calmly left the body and came in search of me.
Her name is Darla. Everything inside me is telling me to get as far away from as humanly possible, but I can’t seem to leave her presence. I’m drawn to her, like those little flying bugs are drawn to the blue fluorescent lights. They must know they are going to die, but they risk it, just trying to get close to the light. It is the same way with Darla. I can feel her flame burning, brighter and brighter, and I know I’m probably going to get burned…but I think it will be worth it. She fascinates me. She defies everything I stand for, but I still stay.
Maybe I’m just extremely lonely. Maybe, just maybe, I miss my love, Leon. To have lost true love so young has to do something to someone. Hopefully he won’t hate me for replacing him, especially with a woman with no rules.
~Mathilda
“You have to breathe in rhythm with your shots. Everything has to be in sync. No rushing. No hesitating. Just you, the gun, and your target,” Mathilda breathed in my ear as we spread out on the floor of my apartment.
“Breathing isn’t really something I practice,” I muttered and attempted to breathe.
“I know it comes naturally, but controlling that breathing is what I am talking about. Regulating and shaping it to where you want it is very important. So, concentrate Darla.”
“Believe me, I’m working on it,” I pushed out a couple more breaths and then looked down the sight of the gun. I focused on the assigned target.
“Become one with the target. Know when it is going to breathe. Feel what it is feeling. Expect its next move,” she quietly added.
When I was confident I had my target I gently squeezed the trigger. The gun came to life, expelling the bullet at its target - a three legged stuffed cat in the window of an apartment across the street and several floors up. It fell into the apartment, covered in sticky blue paint.
“Nice shot,” she told me and I smiled up at her as I rolled off the bed and to my feet. I quickly crossed the room and pulled the curtains to.
“Thank you for the lesson Mathilda. Perhaps another one tomorrow?”
“Sorry, I have a huge test. But by next month I’ll be free for the summer,” she apologized with a small shrug.
“Don’t fret, my child. I’ll survive one evening without your company I suppose. Have you given my offer any thought?”
“I would love to travel Europe, but how am I supposed to get away from the school?”
“No faith in me? You are looking at your long lost Auntie Darla, who just discovered the misfortunate demise of her older sister. And who has just come to realize she is your legal guardian. And as such she is more than able to take you on a three month vacation through Europe,” I announced as I tossed the manila folder in her direction. She scooped the folder off the bed, rifling through all the documents.
“How did you get this?”
“That, my dear child, is a very deep, dark secret. If I tell you I’ll be forced to kill you,” was my reply with a half-smile.
“You could try but I’m better than you,” she cockily replied. I reacted without too much thought and attacked her. I fended off her weak attempts and pinned her face down on the floor.
“You aren’t the better killer of this little duo. You would do well to remember that, Mathilda. You still have a lot to learn. When you visit next we’ll switch to lessons for you, hands on fighting lessons. There are evil things in this world that don’t need knives or guns to kill you. You need to be able to protect yourself.”
“Okay, I give. Could I have my body back?”
“Yes. Now get outta here. Come back when you are ready to fight,” I suggested as I got off her back. She rose to her feet and gathered her things.
“I’ll see you in a couple of days, Darla,” she told me, glancing at me as she stood by the door.
“Come by whenever. That is what the key is for, Mathilda,” I reminded her and she
nodded with a small smile.
“Don’t forget to clean that gun before you put it away,” she reminded me and then ducked out of the apartment. Her nagging left a smile on my lips, which quickly died once I realized it was there. How I had managed to fall in with a human girl I would never be able explain.
Dear Diary,
Darla took me on my first workout run last night. She has to have like super breathing powers because she wasn’t even winded after our three mile jog. I, on the other hand, could hardly breathe. I needed to stop sneaking those smokes while the students and teachers at The Spencer School weren’t looking. And then, after all that crazy running, she takes me to this dojo of sorts, and we start on the basics of street fighting, basic hand to hand combat. It was absolutely great. She knows so much, and can tell when I’m doing something wrong, even as little as my weight distribution, all while we are going through the exercises.
I get the feeling that my schooling her on the finer points of the sniper was over for now. Which is actually fine because this hand to hand combat shit rocks. How often do you have someone that will patiently teach you how to throw a punch and then let you practice on them? I’d worry about it more if Darla didn’t seem to okay with it.
Hopefully we’ll keep working on this.
~Mathilda
Dear Dairy,
Europe was absolutely awesome. Darla took me to England, Spain, Portugal and Germany. She promised to take me to the Mediterranean next summer, to see Greece, Rome, Italy, and then back to Europe to see France. I’m not ready to see my love’s homeland quite yet. But soon. Soon I will walk where he walked, see where he was born, and where he was raised.
Darla, in her quest to make me the world’s best hitman (or woman in my case), lined up teachers for me while we were traveling around Europe. Two different men in Spain, a woman in Germany, and a young couple in Portugal. Each of them had their own styles, and each had their own choice of weapons.
I started training with the sniper and the shotgun with Tomas and Andres. The two men ran me through exercises during the day while Darla slept. She claimed she had an allergy to sunlight, but I think there was more to it than that. And once they felt I was adequately prepared they took me out on live training missions.
The German woman, Annette, taught me handguns and knives. These two weapons were used only when a hit from far away wasn’t possible, or when my employer wanted a much more personal kill. I did tons of training exercises, but she never took me out on real missions. She told me I wasn’t mentally ready for the close kills. And while I argued that she was wrong I had the sinking suspicion she was right.
The young couple, Marcelo and Christine, were nothing like the three previous instructors. These two never stepped foot outside during the day. And Darla frequently hung out with us while I was getting trained. The two of them taught totally different lessons. Christine, who wasn’t much older than Darla, taught me meditation and then methods in which I could use to control my pain. Not to pun but they were painful lessons to learn. Marcelo taught me the basics about hand grenades, explosives, and anything else that would explode. I didn’t blow anything up in practice, but Marcelo did take me with him when his group knocked off a poorly secured jewelry store. Granted, I just mainly watched, and stayed out of the way, but it was still a learning experience.
The best part was after all the training, and all the new knowledge drilled into my head, I was contacted to make a few easy - amateur level - hits. They were something I could do in a snap, but I eagerly took them so I could get the experience, the reputation, and most importantly the money that went along with every hit.
Darla took me on trips, showing me the nightlife in every city we stepped foot in. She was extremely knowledgeable about each city…and knew every good bar or club to attend. And the crazy thing was that I was never once questioned about my age or lack of ID.
Overall Europe, and a three month vacation with Darla away from New York City, was great. I can’t wait to go away with her next summer.
~Mathilda
Despite the fact that I absolutely enjoyed spending time with Mathilda it was an extremely hard three months with her, while we were on vacation in Europe. I should have realized that the young adult in Mathilda would want to go out, explore the cities, walk around during the day and just soak up everything she possibly could. But I had a misguided image of her. In my head, I had seen this as an educational trip to strengthen her rapidly budding skills. She was a complete mystery to me. One minute I was looking at her and she was a cold-blooded killer, with absolutely no remorse for taking a life, and the next she was a freakin’ kid, running around enjoying life. I think that is what attracted me to her and ultimately what kept me from turning or killing her. She was so full of life. Despite the fact that she was an aspiring hitman, she still lived each day to its fullest. And I was jealous that she was still capable of doing that, despite everything she had been through. Her absolute love for life, and her joy in living it, was the primary reason that I hadn’t turned her already. I was terrified that Mathilda, the vampire wouldn’t be nearly as wonderful as Mathilda, the young girl.
These, of course, were all irrational thoughts for any vampire. They were especially wrong for me, being the childe of the Master and Sire of Angelus - the Scourge of Europe. I had created one of the fiercest vampires in history. Of course, he was currently in possession of a filthy soul. The things my boy was capable of. All dampened by those damned gypsies. He was the exact opposite of Mathilda. I had grown accustomed to her soul, to her lack of emotion during a kill, but her ability to smile and joke around afterwards. Angelus was never such a creature. I imagine, if he hadn’t had a century worth of shit to haunt him, that now he would be much like my Mathilda.
But Mathilda lacked the creativity when it came to the kill. She was just a hitman. She didn’t kill for fun or sport. She killed because someone paid her to do it, and because the person generally deserved to die. And she followed a strict moral code when it came to potential hits. No women. No children. Both severely conflicted with my own killing patterns, considering babies and young children were my favorite treats.
Despite the fact I was confided to the hours between sunset and sunrise, I still managed to take Mathilda around and show her a good time. During the day she would take the standard tours, exploring the cities as tourists would see them. At night I would take her to the bars and the clubs that really made the cities come alive. A little stare or two and the bouncers at the establishments were more than willing to look the other way, allowing both of us to enter.
I spent the summer teaching Mathilda how to drink and how not to get drunk doing so. Sure, I let her get drunk on occasion, but only if I was around. And I taught her how to drink to fool people into thinking that she was trashed. It was a fine art form. And perhaps I spent a little too long teaching her that, but she seemed to thoroughly enjoy the lessons involving alcohol.
The other important lesson I taught her, while she wasn’t learning the tricks of the trade, was how to read people. It was necessary for her to be able to pick certain types of people out of a crowd, and then how to react to them and treat them. Humans were so predictable. I had always studied them, even before I was a vampire, but especially afterwards. And in the four centuries I had spent on this Earth they hadn’t changed much.
By the end of the summer I could tell she was ready to go back to school. Ready for the normalcy that her strict private school education gave her. It gave her the balance she needed in her life to keep doing the hits and not lose herself to the darkness. And I wasn’t ready to see that darkness in her just yet.
Chapter Two: Undead Domestic Life
August 1996
“Come on, keep up, slow poke,” I called back over my shoulder as I jogged down the sidewalk. It was just after dark, and the New York City streets were just starting to cool off from the intense heat of a summer day. It was as good a time as any to go for a jog with Mathilda. She was jogging a few yards behind me, starting to show signs of fatigue. But I guess it was only fair considering we had already covered three miles, and were still headed uphill.
“I’m coming, I’m coming. It isn’t my fault I have to breathe!” she called back, panting slightly. I stopped my forward movement and jogged in place for a moment, letting her catch up.
“And what, you are saying that I don’t need to breathe?”
“You said it, not me. You just can run and run and not be out of breath and I don’t understand it,” Mathilda explained to me. I smiled at her and shook my head.
“I have been running since before you were born,” I started off the lecture and she screamed, a frustrated scream in the dark of the street.
“No, God, no, not that damned line again,” she begged me. Despite her tone of desperation her eyes twinkled with amusement.
I was about to respond when a rapid shiver went through my body. I couldn’t control it as I shuddered. The whole thing was enough reason for me to stop running and reach out to grab hold of Mathilda. There was a Slayer nearby, and the chances were that she had already sensed me. Fuck, I hadn’t been careful enough. Goofing off with Mathilda and not paying attention to my surroundings.
“What, what is wrong?” Mathilda asked me, immediately looking around, and slipping into a defensive position.
“Someone is close by,” I whispered to her and she looked over at me in confusion.
“Someone? Darla, there are people all over the place. What are you talking about? And yeah, normal people don’t shudder when they feel other people around them,” she called me on my physical reaction.
“Please, I just need you to trust me. No questions. No talking. Just be quiet, and let me think,” I urged her. She must have sensed that there was something clearly not right in my tone, because she stopped talking, and let me have her silence. I tried to reach out and feel for the Slayer, but I couldn’t get a good enough grasp on where she was. The fact that I couldn’t get a feel on her general direction meant that she was close, super close.
“Ok, Mathilda, we are going to turn around and head back to your school. Exercising is over for the evening as soon as we get you back safe and sound,” I decided and started back in the direction we had just come from. But it was clearly the wrong direction because the Slayer stepped out of an alley and into the middle of the sidewalk. She had a crossbow slung over her torso, and a stake in her hand. She was a little taller than I, heavier built, with a darker complexion. Staring at the two of us, she was the dark and I was the light. Ironic because my angelic appearance was all a farce.
“I don’t think that you are going to be taking that girl anywhere,” the girl spoke. Mathilda looked at the girl and then looked at me. She couldn’t figure out what was going on.
“Do you know her, Darla?” Mathilda quickly asked, trying her damnest to assess the situation.
“Not exactly,” I vaguely replied. I knew that wouldn’t be enough for her, but I needed to get her away from here. I took a step forward, a tiny one, toward the Slayer standing before me, but it put me in-between the Slayer and Mathilda.
“You’ll let her pass, right? Unharmed?” I called out.
“Yes. And if she doesn’t get any stupid ideas about joining in this then she is more than welcome to pass, unharmed,” the Slayer called back and I nodded. Never trust the enemy, but at this point my main priority was getting Mathilda safely away.
“No stupid ideas. Just let her pass. She knows nothing,” I assured the Slayer.
“Then tell her move her ass,” she told me. “Other side of the street. And tell her not to come back.”
“Mathilda,” I started.
“No. No. No. Leon told me to go and that he would be right behind me. He told me he loved me. That I had given him roots and that he had the desire to live. He died for me Darla. Died because my stupidity ran wild. I’m not going to leave you and have you die too!!”
“Mathilda, listen to me. I’m not going to tell you I love you. I’m not going to tell you that you gave me a reason to live because quite frankly I’m already dead. But I will tell you I will be at your dorm room right after sunset tomorrow. We will go running, we will work out, and we will train together. But I need you to go now. When my kind meet up with hers bad things happen and I don’t want you to be involved.”
“Promise me you’ll come for me tomorrow.”
“I promise, my child, now please go,” I urged her. She nodded, gave a dark look towards the Slayer, and took off across the street and back towards her school. She would be safe there. The Slayer would never find her. But Mathilda would remember the girl forever.
“Touching, but aren’t vamps supposed to kill people not coddle them?”
“You got me alone so now let’s do something about it.”
“Fair enough,” she commented and I headed after her into a side alley.
The fight was not pretty. She was good at her calling. Maybe too good. I managed to drag the fight on even though I wasn’t winning. She and I both successfully landed some fairly good hits. But it was clear we were both waiting for the other to slip, so we could finish the kill. She managed to get me down and stab me in my chest - breaking two ribs and puncturing a lung - with a metal pole. I saw her pull out her stake as I struggled to remove the pole from myself while moving away from her. She lashed out, kicking me in the face. I went sprawling onto my back. Pain radiated from every fiber of my body. The pole forgotten as she advanced upon me. No cheesy lines or puns came from her mouth, only the stake on its downward motion straight toward my heart. A single gunshot ruined the moment.
Dear Diary,
I killed a girl tonight. I shot her in cold blood. I broke Leon’s rules. Two simple rules and I fucked them up. I can’t get the look of shock and horror on her face out of my mind. The look dissolved into something I can’t explain. If I had to guess I’d say it was happiness or at least peace. But I did that. God, what am I going to do?
Darla said she’d take care of her. Darla said it was all going to be all right. Darla had a metal pole sticking out of her chest and she is the one telling me it is all going to be okay. Darla’s probably dead by now. And I left her too. She took my gun, told me to leave before the sirens got any closer, and that she would see me tomorrow. God, she’s probably dead. I let her die.
How did things get so fucked up?
Leon, my love, if you are watching over me please forgive me. I didn’t mean to break the rules but she was about to kill Darla. And I couldn’t bear the thought of losing her too. Be well, my love, I hope you are at peace.
~Mathilda
“I’m here to see Mathilda,” I told the girl that answered the door.
“She’s in her room. Do you want to come in or me to get her?”
“I’ll come in,” I told the girl.
“Ok sure,” she said and then backed up to let me in. “Do you know the way?”
“Yes.” I hoped the affirmation was enough to dismiss the girl. She nodded and then disappeared down a hall. I turned to the left and headed through the short maze that would lead me to Mathilda’s single. I knocked on her door and awaited an answer. Behind the door I heard the bed creak and movement headed my way. A moment later Mathilda appeared in the doorway.
“Darla!” she yelled and launched herself at me. Arms wrapped around my neck, legs wrapped around my waist, and she was all around me. I held onto her and balanced my weight so I wouldn’t fall over.
“I’m here, my child, I’m here,” I whispered in her ear. I gently ran my hands up and down her back. I whispered words of nonsense in her ear. Surprisingly they worked on both of us.
Minutes passed before she finally let her body slide down mine until she reached the floor.
“I told you I’d come,” I whispered. “I told you.”
“I know. I never had a doubt,” she got out through the tears.
Chapter Three: In Between Demons & Souls
The key turning in the lock let me know Mathilda was the one entering my apartment. I tossed the rest of my clothes into my suitcase. A quick glance at the clock told me I still had three hours before I had to catch my plane.
“Darla?” Mathilda called out.
“In the back,” I responded. I heard her footsteps head down the short hallway.
“What’s going on?” I watched as she quietly took in the bedroom and the mess. I looked up at her and sighed. She had turned out so beautifully. Her teens had been good to her. Not to mention all the training had left her at 5’6” with a lean frame. Her shoulder blade length brown hair was pulled back in a messy bun. And drastic makeup on her face matched the gothic clothes on her body. Why was I leaving this child behind?
“I have to go. The family is being called in. I can’t say no,” I explained and she stayed in the doorway.
“When did you find out?”
“Last night after I dropped you off.”
“Were you planning on telling me?”
“Yes, Mathilda, of course. But I had to pack and you didn’t need to help out with that. My flight leaves in three hours. I was going to stop by your school before I left,” I immediately told her.
“Of course,” she replied. “So, family gathering and you just leave? What about me? What about our trip this summer?”
“I wish I could explain it so you would understand. But I have to go Mathilda. If I don’t go I’ll be hunted down. I’m the favored childe. And while that means nothing to you, believe me, if I skip out then I don’t even want to think about what will happen.”
“And me?” Mathilda’s voice quivered.
“You, my dear child, need to stay here. I need you to finish school. I would love to tell you that I will be back for our vacation but that would be a lie. I don’t think I’ll be able to get away for at least a year. And I’m sorry Mathilda, but I’ve stayed away too long already.”
“And what…you leave and I wait a year for you to come back?”
“I know that sounds horrible, but it is either that or this is goodbye. I’m sorry, Mathilda, believe me I am, but I have no other choice.”
“Let me call you then. Let me keep in touch with you. It is the least you can do,” she pleaded.
“I will call you when I get out there. And we’ll see about setting up phone calls,” I assured her. It was the best I could give her. Clearly it wasn’t what she wanted, but it was the best I could do.
“Okay,” she finally agreed. “Do you need help packing? Carrying stuff to the airport?” And that sudden acceptance and utter confidence that she had in me was why I had stuck around so long. She cared for me. Despite the things she had seen me do. Despite the fact that I kept things from her. She cared. And I basked in that warmth.
“I’m almost done packing but I could definitely use a hand and company to the airport.”
“Good. Let me know what to grab,” she responded and smiled softly.
Dear Diary,
Darla hasn’t even been gone for a whole day and I already miss her. The City seems dull, lifeless, and quiet without her presence. I realize I’m probably over exaggerating, but it hurts that she’s gone. And I worry that I will never see her again. That last night’s hug will be both the first and last. And I think Darla worries about it too. Watching her walk down the hallway to the plane was hard. Watching it take off almost broke my heart.
She made me promise to keep training. And I will. The last two plus years have made it so I can’t not train. It’s ingrained in my mind, my body, my soul. And I’ll continue to take contracts. The money is always good. And I’ll wait for her to come home. Mostly because I don’t want to think about living without her in my life one way or another.
I hope she stays safe. Losing Leon hurt…but losing Darla might kill me.
~Mathilda
Dear Diary,
Darla called tonight. Something is very wrong. Her family has come across a problem. Darla kept insisting that one little blonde wasn’t going to get in the way, but my gut tells me differently. And I’m pretty sure hers does too.
Aside from that she told me she was in California, which I already knew. She won’t give me a more specific location. She kept insisting that I not come find her. That her family wouldn’t understand why I was there, and they would probably kill me. And she held a lot of conviction in her tone. She thinks they’ll kill me, and that’s more than enough reason for me to stay away, for now.
She’s supposed to call next week, maybe sooner if she can get to a phone. It’s been weeks and I can already feel myself wilting away. I miss her.
~Mathilda
Dear Diary,
Darla’s dead.
Dear Diary,
I got an envelope in the mail yesterday. It was to be sent upon her death. Inside was a list of bank accounts, saving deposit boxes, and more, so much more. All of them had my name on them. I was ridiculously rich now. Rich enough I would never have to do another hit in my life. But the cost of being rich was way too high.
I’ve cried all the tears I can. I trashed my room, beat up a few people last night, and got myself well and truly smashed. And now all I’m left with is a letter. Pieces of paper with her writing scrawled upon them. Words carefully thought out and placed for my viewing. And instructions on how to remain alive when - not if - I come looking for her killer.
Aurelius.
That is Darla’s true name - her family name. I’m part of that family too. She marked me; when I don’t know, but she did. And she says the others will know.
And she sent a cross to me. It is clearly an antique; she said it was made in the late 1500s. And that she would like me to wear it all the time. Its weight is a calming presence against my skin. Even now, as I write this, I’m still touching it, playing with it, making sure it hasn’t disappeared as well. .
She asked me not to look for her killer immediately. To wait, cool off, get my head back on straight. No emotion, just simple hunting. Emotion could be had afterwards. And so I’ll wait, if only to respect her wishes.
~Mathilda
Dear Diary,
I found Darla’s killer. Angel, her child. Darla never mentioned children. Could Angel and Angelus be related…or the same? I think Darla would have told me if she was having a relationship with her son.
He no longer resides in this town called Sunnydale. He left for L.A. And that is where I am headed. I’m going to look him in the eye while I pull the trigger. Darla deserves that much.
~Mathilda
Dear Diary,
I found Angel, and I’ve got the bruises and broken arm to show for it. And despite all that I’m currently residing in his hotel. He put me up for the night after he got done kicking my ass. As it turns out he says he killed her, put her out of her misery, and set her free. He said she was possessed by a demon. And that Darla wouldn’t have wanted to live that way. I don’t know what to believe. But I plan on keeping a close eye on Angel. It’s clear that he can kick my ass. And it’s also clear that he isn’t going to kill me, despite my attacking him, and his coworkers’ blatant encouragement.
L.A. is giving me a strange vibe. I feel like something big is going to happen and I just need to stick around long enough to figure it out.
I miss Darla. I miss her smile, her laugh, her sarcastic streak, and her viciousness at times. She was more than just Darla. She was my best friend. She was the only one in this whole crazy world that understood me. Except for Leon…but they are both dead. And I’m left behind to pick up the pieces and move on.
I hate being left behind.
~Mathilda
Dear Diary,
I saw Darla this evening. I mean, I don’t think that I was hallucinating. But I have to be. She died. Angel said he killed her. And plus, this woman was running around in the daylight. I hadn’t seen Darla in the daylight in all the years I had known her. In fact, she avoided it like the plague. I went to Angel and asked him. And damn if he didn’t freak out. He started yelling at his coworkers that Darla was really was alive. That I was proof that he wasn’t crazy. And his coworkers kicked me out, and told me not to come back, and so I left. He would lead me to her though. I knew that much. So, I camped out outside the hotel and waited for him to go to her.
~Mathilda
Dear Diary,
He came running back to the hotel a few minutes ago. I’m a little too wigged out by his beaten appearance to actually move closer to the hotel. But I’m following him wherever he goes this time. He knows something. Something big. And it involves Darla. Which means that I am going to get myself involved. How is Darla alive? Why hasn’t she come for me? Despite all the confusion surrounding her I need to see her. I need to hear her voice again. Let’s hope Angel finds her soon.
~Mathilda
Dear Diary,
It seems that Darla has been taken to be reborn in some nursery. A plant nursery of all places. And the Angel Investigations Team mentioned Wolfram and Hart. I thought that was a law firm. Crazy shit goes down in this town. They are gathering weapons - that much I can tell from my distant perch. And Angel looks determined. He looks like he is ready to kill something. God, I hope he isn’t planning on trying to kill Darla again. I’d really hate to have to kill him this time. He seems like a genuinely nice guy. They’re about to move. I should follow them. Darla, my dear Darla, I’m coming.
~Mathilda
“Angel?” I look up at my childe in confusion. What is going on? Where am I? And why does he have a stake? Oh god, it wasn’t a dream. Drusilla… I keep looking around, surmising that I am a roof, dressed in a nightgown. And sadly enough I’m in the same place I was in Sunnydale, about to staked by my own childe. For a reason this time. To save me. To save my soul. I can see the pain etched across his face. He feels guilty about me being a vampire. I don’t belong here. I was happy wherever I was. I see him start to bring the stake down again and let my eyes fall closed. I may be able to accept death, but I’m not going to watch my own happen. But the blow never comes.
Drusilla had tackled him, rolling him back toward the greenhouse glass. And I rise to my feet and run to the ledge of the roof. As the seconds tick by I can feel the last tendrils of my soul disappearing. The demon is rising. Taking control. And any moment now I’ll not be me and I’ll be her. The demon is screaming for me to flee. I look back over my shoulder and see Angel start to move. I won’t let him have me. I climb up on the edge and step off, a five story drop, just as I hear him get his feet under him.
I land wrong, but manage to soften the blown by rolling when my knees give out. Quickly, I move out of the street and into a dark side alley. He will still be able to find me if I stay, so I keep moving. I am almost two blocks away when I realize someone is following me. I duck into a dark corner and watch as a young woman comes running into the alley, stopping when she realizes I’m not visible.
“Darla! I know it’s you. Please, come out. Darla!” the girl calls out as she steps further into the alley. Something is eerily familiar about her. Her gait, the way she holds herself, and her voice all sound so recognizable. But through the fog I can’t place her.
I let her walk past me, unknowingly, and step out behind her. She doesn’t hear me as I walk soundlessly up behind her. I had every intention of grilling the girl, finding out who she is, how she knows my face and name. But when I get within inches of her all I smell is blood. Blood furiously being pumped through veins just barely under the skin. Her blood is laced with adrenaline and fear. Both tasty additions to the already savory substance. And I let the demon take over because it needs to feed. And I’m almost gone anyway.
I grab her from behind, wrapping one arm around her chest, catching one of her arms in the process, and my other hand grabs her head, tilting it to the left, baring her neck. I see the bite, recognize it for my own, but still continue. Details of my connection to this girl will come later. Now I can only think about the kill. She immediately starts to struggle, trying to pull my arms off her, lashing out with her boot encased feet, but she is no match for a starving newly risen vampire such as myself. I sink my fangs into the existing mark and feed. The warm, spiced, blood flows over my teeth and tongue and glides down my throat. I bite harder, sucking more and more into my mouth. Gluttony. I’m not even really tasting it at this point, but my body needs it.
The body I’m holding has stopped fighting and her knees give out, sending us both crashing to the paved alley. I manage to rip my fangs out of her neck, flinging myself backwards and away from the girl. Enough blood. Too much even. I wipe my chin with the back of my hand, coming away with blood. Such a mess. And then I see the cross, lying in the hollow the girl’s neck. And my world snaps back into focus. I scramble to get back to her body. Immediately my fingers go to her neck, the left side, searching for a pulse. I listen intently, trying to stop my own suddenly panicked breathing, for a heartbeat. Faint, too faint. She’s too far gone. Not even the demon I am can save her now. Her eyes roll back in her head, what little blood that is left in her body is slowly seeping out of her neck, and I hear her final heartbeat.
Lying before me, in a dirty alley, is my dear sweet Mathilda.
I collapse backwards, putting a small distance between myself and her body. It’s still warm, but cooling off fast with the lack of blood inside it. I notice the pack, just off to her right, close enough that I just have to stretch to get it. I rip the zipper in my haste to open it. The contents spill out into my lap and onto the street around me.
Weapons. My girl never traveled light. She might not have known what she was coming up against, but she was prepared for anything. The leather bound book caught my attention, as it was out of place amidst the weapons. I opened it and immediately recognized it to be Mathilda’s journal. Carefully, reverently I flipped to the last page. I reread her final entry and tears sprung to my eyes. She had been looking for me. And unfortunately she had found me too late.
I closed the book, stuffing it, and the weapons, back in the pack. I bunch the pack back together as best as I could and rose to my feet. I didn’t have much time. I needed to move her now, before Angel found me, before I lost total control of myself. I carefully picked up her body, gently cradling it against my chest, and walked out of the alley.
Dear Diary,
I buried Mathilda in one of the nicer cemeteries in L.A. It was no New York skyline but it was a decent view. It was the least I could do for her. Her tombstone reads:
Mathilda Aurelius Carroll
April 14, 1982 - December 19, 2000
Now forever with her love.
Be well, my child.
I don’t have the time to mourn her death properly at the moment. I have to deal with these lawyers at Wolfram and Hart. They are responsible for my transformation back into the demon. They will pay for messing with my life.
I hope you will forgive me, my child. I never meant to hurt you. I never meant for anything bad to ever come of you. Please forgive me. I loved you with everything I was capable of. It might not have been much, but it was all I had to give.
Perhaps I will see you again. Take care, my dear, sweet child.
~Darla